Playing House
by lightmylumiere
Summary: Morgan Cameron, unknown to House, is his goddaughter and the last person the team thought House would care so deeply for: Cameron's orphaned daughter! How alike can House and Morgan get? And who is Morgan's dad Cameron hid from her for so long? CHAPTER9UP
1. Prologue: Gone

*This story hit me like a ton of bricks. And when something hits you that hard, you just kinda have to roll with it.

I do not own House, I don't even get to watch it now other than on Tuesday morning at six for new episodes and every Friday night after girl scouts for chronological reruns. I do, however own Morgan, who this whole story is about. So enjoy the ride and review!*

Prologue: Gone

She walked out of the high school's back doors five minutes before the bell rang, hoping to be able to make it to play practice on time if she did this. Her knee-high Converse covered her skin-tight skinny jeans, which were called "skinny jeans" for a reason clearly. A green coat over a black-and-white striped sweater and star-covered tee, she looked like an "American flag for the colorblind". And that was fine for her. There were worse looks.

She smiled as she made her way into the auditorium. It was like a second home to her, she didn't enjoy being home alone. The black scuffed-up stage was like the comfort of carpet, the red fabric of the theater seats were softer than any furniture at home. And all the people on the stage were like her brothers and sisters and cousins. But her only family in this blasted town was her mom, and that was all there was ever going to be.

"Hey, Morgan." Avery Black, one of Morgan's closest guy friends, said casually. "You know we don't have practice today, right?"

"Sorry, what?" Her head was in the clouds. No practice? They had practice every day. This was the first time in weeks they didn't have practice.

"Mr. Dawson is sick, he had to cancel." Avery watched as Morgan sank into one of the seats anyways. Ah, the comfy fading red, stains from last show's infamous Doritos battle. Morgan remembered running through the crossfire, chips flying from red and blue bags faster than someone could eat them. All about flavor, they told her. But she couldn't understand. Last year she was a stupid eighth grader. Now she was a high schooler, top of the stage food chain.

"Then I guess I'll chill out and do my homework." She pulled out her Geometry book and a notebook, a pencil tucked behind her ear, hidden in her short brown hair hitting her chin. Her eyes were a light purple-gray, her mom called them "princess eyes" because they reminded her of Cinderella's dress. "Help me please?" She pouted as Avery ran his hand through his jet black hair.

"You know I was no good at geometry, I hardly passed Morgan." Avery whined. "But I'm here for moral support."

"Coward." She scoffed. If her mom had taught her one thing it was not to let anything make her feel weak. Which sometimes made her seem bitter or unconcerned. But she didn't want to get hurt like her mom clearly did.

It was a quick two hours from when school got out to when practice would've been over. Avery had just left, Morgan sat waiting for her mom. Obviously Mrs. Black nor Mr. Dawson were giving her a ride home. So walking it was, she figured. The three miles to her house would pass quickly, wouldn't they?

Her mom was a head nurse at Chesapeake Medical Center, though she was trained to be a doctor. She had now-blonde hair and light blue eyes, looking more like one of those "perfect people" Hitler desired, she was a spitting image of their history lesson. But her mom wasn't one for history. She wasn't one to make history, to have a history, to care for history. Her mom didn't trust people, she didn't seem to like them. "A wise man once told me that everybody lies." Her mom warned Morgan starting at a very young age, and maybe that's why Morgan didn't originally trust much of anyone. Her mom had been hurt by whoever her father was, because when Morgan asked about him she usually hit her tongue and told her "He doesn't matter to us baby." Morgan was content not knowing her dad, but it was saddening to know her mom was still stung by what happened almost fifteen years ago. She just wished she knew what had happened, or even his name.

The door was locked, no car in the drive. She wasn't home yet, usually she would've gotten home at five fifteen that evening, but it was six. That was unusual. And there was NEVER anything unusual about her mom. So she fixed herself a bowl of cereal and watched her DVRed episodes of Glee, and waited... And waited... And waited...

...the next day...

"Morgan Cameron to guidance please." Rang out the speakers right after the first late bell rang. When someone was called to guidance, she knew, it meant they were caught in one of their actions. And she had MANY actions. The time she accidentally hit Avery's girlfriend with a basketball and hurt her jaw. Skipping five minutes of last bell to make it to play practices. Drawing a Christmas tree on her desk in Mr. Solomon's class. On the quiet walk down the stairs and to the office, she was thinking of an alibi. One she didn't have.

In the guidance office was her guidance councilor Mrs. Drew, a thin dark-haired woman with glowing green eyes and a sickly complexion, always looking as though she's about to throw up but never does. And another was the school social worker. "Morgan Abigail Cameron, correct?" The social worker asked, Morgan managing a stiff nod. "And your mother is Allison Cameron, correct?" Another nod.

"Mrs. Drew, why am I here? I've got class..." Morgan tried to walk away, but Mrs. Drew reached out and grabbed her arm, as if refusing her exit.

"Miss Cameron I am sorry to tell you that your mother died last night in a car accident." The social worker told her quietly, waiting for a reaction. She didn't get the one she wanted. The girl didn't sob aloud, she didn't even sniffle. You just saw tears drip down her face and what was a smile turn to a grimace. "She was hit by a drunk driver on her way home from work."

Why? Morgan asked herself. Why was fate so cruel to her? She didn't know her father, he could be dead for all gets she knew, and her mother was gone now too. That made her an orphan. She didn't like that idea though! She wasn't a little orphan Annie, though she was Pepper in the stage show. She wasn't a fortunate little girl, she only had one father not three to choose from (Mamma Mia, she kept trying to convince Mr. Dawson on it, but he didn't agree. She didn't rule out the idea of three possible fathers though. That would be too cool!) "What do I do now?"

"You will be living with your godfather come next week." Morgan raised an eyebrow. She had never met a godfather of her's, nothing more than her aunt and uncle, her mom's brother and sister. This was new to her.

"My godfather?" How ill a fate, to live with a godfather! Much less a man she hadn't met, as far as she knew.

"Dr. Gregory House, he lives in New Jersey." Mrs. Drew explained. "We will get you up there to meet him in a few days, you will stay with me until then."

"And what if I don't WANT to live with Dr. Gregory House?" Morgan snapped quickly, hoping to get an uprising. Nothing.

"We send you to foster care." The social worker explained. "And no one wants that, do they?"

Morgan shrugged.

"Good. We will arrange for Dr. House to meet you on Friday, after the funeral." Another tear ran hot down Morgan's cheek. "I could suggest you a grief councilor if you like."

"I'll pass." Morgan walked out, without another word, and started back to class. But she just couldn't make it. She stopped in the middle of the hallway, sank down beside a brick column, hung her head and cried until the next bell rang. This was the end of what she knew.

*I hope y'all liked. :) Review love!*


	2. Part one, Chapter one: This I Knew

*Well this is the start of chapter two, where we will learn more about Cameron and her relationship with Morgan, yay!

I hope that you guys review, I saw a couple lurkers there...*

Part One, Chapter One: This I Knew

Morgan sat in Mrs. Drew's red minivan in the back seat, floral backpack in her lap, iPod headphones in her ears. The Bitch of Living, from Spring Awakening, was on repeat and blaring. Quite fortunately, Mrs. Drew couldn't hear over the sound of her phone call with her husband. Morgan wondered, as she turned down her music and took out an earphone, what would possess a person to marry someone of all they would do is argue. Perhaps that's why she only had a mom, and not a dad.

Her mom had been married once. She saw the wedding pictures, there was one framed on the mantle and an entire wedding album. The man had dark hair and chocolate eyes, her mom cried every time she saw him. Morgan asked if he was her dad, and the answer was sadly no. But Morgan didn't want to believe that. She would keep believing the man in the pictures was her dad until she found her real one.

Mrs. Drew lived three houses down from the Cameron residence. Her house was a two-story house, unlike the Cameron one-story, with carolina blue painted siding and royal blue door and shutters. The Cameron house was creamy yellow with dark green shutters and door, a pretty house in Morgan's mind. "Morgan, you can go across the street and get your stuff, right?" Morgan managed a nod. "Be back here in a few minutes and we can start dinner." A second nod. Morgan wasn't ever much of a talker, not to most people and ESPECIALLY Mrs. Drew. She got out of the car and pulled her keys from her backpack's front external pocket, then started walking down to the house she called home for so long.

She opened the door and saw what she usually saw. The kitchen was in slight disarray, it always seemed to be when her mom didn't tell her to clean it up. "If you make a mess, don't expect me to clean it up for you, now that you're a big girl." Her mom said to her when she was seven, it seemed like so long ago. There was still a cereal bowl on the counter and a spoon, both clean and laid out for tonight's dinner. Rice Crispies box beside the bowl, milk in the fridge and a half-drank bottle of cream soda on the counter, her mom drank some of it every morning to make her "peppier". Morgan never argued with the ritual, she just did a sniff check every now and then to make sure it was just cream soda and not a drink of another variety...

The living room was just as it was that morning. Morgan fell asleep on the couch, watching reruns of one of those medical series her mom seemed to devour, they would both sit on the couch at night and pop a bowl of popcorn, discuss how what the show was calling the solution was IMPOSSIBLE and what the real answer was. Ah, good memories. There was a furry cheetah-print blanket tossed and spread along the couch, warm from it sitting in a sunbeam. The pillow was from Morgan's bedroom, a floral pillowcase on it. It was just like every other night she stayed on the couch and waited for her mom to come home, usually from a late shift. But this time was different. She wasn't coming home. And that would make Morgan cry again if she thought about it. She wouldn't cry, she had to be strong for her mom.

She walked down the hallway, the yellow-painted hallway. She remembered when the room was painted that color, her mom insisted she could do it by herself while Mrs. Drew watched her in the other room. And how it wasn't yellow when she painted it the first time, it was this awful vomit green color. So in the end, the then-five year old Morgan and Mrs. Drew helped fix the messed up hallway and cover it in the black picture frames. Each frame contained a picture of Morgan, most of the time of Morgan and her mom. Ah, good memories circled the home.

The hall then branched to two rooms: one that was Morgan's and one that was her mom's. Her room was painted coral and gray, not her favorite color but she thought it was pretty. One wall was coral, but the other three were gray. Her bed was a daybed, it looked like a white wooden couch with a circle-covered bedspread. She grabbed her military-style duffle bag out from under her bed and grabbed some jeans and a few nice shirts, knowing she'd be back home tomorrow. She had sweatpants in her backpack from gym and those would have to suffice for pajamas tonight, she wasn't about to wear one of her skimpy nightshirts around Mr. Drew. For all she knew he could've been a pedophile. She didn't want to take any chances.

Lastly, once her bag was packed, she went into her mom's room. It was a lavender-gray color, her bed frame had pineapples carved into the bedposts. The bedspread was floral, purple and pink and blue. All the furniture was brown, there was a television propped up on the dresser. Morgan remembered that some nights her mom would invite her in and they would watch a movie until they both fell asleep. All the things in this room reminded her: it's all gone. That sweet smell of her mom's perfume still fresh in the air: it smelled like some sort of fruit, it was sweet and sugary in many senses. But for now, Morgan swiped the bottle off the counter, sprayed all of the contents of her bag with the sweet orange spray and put the bottle back. Stretched across the bed and took in the smell. Her smell. The smell that she would only smell again when she met her again.

Like that she left, tears welled in her eyes and hardly a memory in her mind.

...the next day...

Black flared jeans were on her slim figure, hugging her legs tightly and flaring out over her heels. The heels she stole from her mom's closet before leaving. She combed her hair back, the only hair near her face were her bangs in her eyes. A peach ruffled shirt attached itself to her body, flowing over her in it's entirety. Mrs. Drew greeted her in the kitchen that morning with a bowl on the table, a spoon beside it, and Captain Crunch on the table in front of it. "I remembered you liking cereal." Mrs. Drew, back in her college days, was Morgan's nanny. It paid well, Morgan's mom only wanted the best care for her only child. But as soon as Morgan could enter kindergarten, Mrs. Drew left, and as she studied to be a guidance councilor Morgan and Mrs. Drew grew apart.

"I'm not hungry." Morgan said sourly, Mrs. Drew's applied-for-school smile fell.

"Morgan, you have to eat something." Mrs. Drew explained quietly. "Anything, anything at all. We could even stop somewhere on our way to school. McDonalds or something."

"Wait, who said I was going to school WITH you?" Morgan's hands rushed to her hips disapprovingly.

"I figured it was convenient."

"The bus is convenient, it's saving the environment. Me riding with you, however..." Morgan bit her tongue seeing the pain in Mrs. Drew's eyes.

"They offer grief counciling at school you know." Mrs. Drew was clearly concerned for Morgan's health.

"I don't need a grief councilor, I need to get out of this damn town." Mrs. Drew had never heard Morgan swear, Morgan hadn't even ever heard herself swear. Her mom did, but Morgan had never. It was empowering almost, knowing that she and her mom had something truly in common.

"Morgan, you seem to forget that I knew your mother quite well. She's lived here since I was eighteen, she's been my neighbor for almost fifteen years. I miss her too." Mrs. Drew pouted, but Morgan saw it in her eyes. And it wasn't making her feel any better.

"Then YOU need to see a therapist, cuz you didn't know her like I did. She's my ONLY family." Morgan gulped. She was an orphan, by standards, she didn't even know her dad's name. But she was left under the custody of some Dr. House, her mom's old boss, she spoke of him a lot. But she was still a lone wolf. "I have to pack too.

"I'll take you home after lunch and we will get you packed. Understood?" Mrs. Drew wasn't a master at compromising, which made this all the easier on Morgan. Morgan gave a stiff nod, grabbed her backpack and headed out the door. Smelling strongly of her mom's perfume.

*In one or two chapters we will see how House handles Cameron's death, and Morgan. And if he tells any of his past lackeys... :) oh joy. I need some feedback though!*


	3. Part One, Chapter Two: Nothing Like Him

*I see less lurking... and less reading...

This is a bad sign. If you see this message: it's a calling to change your ways! In this very chapter, yes, this very one: we are going to get some Morgan/House action... EW, no not like that. T for language, not for pedophilia. And off we go on a wild ride.*

Part One, Chapter Two: Nothing Like Him

She met her future life briefly at the funeral. She sat in her mom's room in silence, wearing a black halter-necked dress that widened to a circle skirt, belted with a purple belt around her waist. Her heels were black lace with a bow on it, her mom's heels. Her hair was curled in ringlets, her bangs slick on the side of her face. Her mom's best pearl strand was wrapped around her neck, and her mom's citrusy perfume wafted about her.

An older black gentleman, probably close to her mom's age, walked into the room with hardly more than a knock on the door. "You must be Cameron's daughter." Morgan looked up at him with tear-filled eyes.

"Morgan, yes." She hung her head and averted his concern-filled eyes. "How did you know my mom?"

"We worked together back in New Jersey, at PPTH." He put his hand on her shoulder. "I know my loss cannot compare to your's, but she was a very loved woman."

"Are you Greg House?" She asked hopefully, remembering her mom's stories of the infamous doctor House.

"No. Eric Foreman..." Foreman looked at her curiously. "House should be here though." He soon walked out, leaving Morgan all alone again. But she obviously couldn't stay lonely for long.

A curly-haired woman wandered in, chasing after a ten year old who resembled her; clearly her daughter. The woman was probably as old, if not older, than Morgan's mom. "Hello, you must be Doctor Cameron's daughter." The woman hugged Morgan tightly. "I'm so so sorry for your loss."

Well this couldn't be GREG House, but it wasn't a bad start. "Are you Mrs. House?" Morgan asked hopefully, praying to get a stiff nod.

"No, I'm Doctor Cuddy. I was your mom's boss at PPTH, I live down in DC now." Cuddy smiled warmly at the girl. "And this is my daughter, Rachel." The little girl grinned sheepishly.

"So I take it you couldn't tell me how to find Dr. House." Morgan concluded.

"Not much help there. Just look for the guy everyone is avoiding, he will either be there or lurking nearby." And Cuddy lead Rachel out, without another word. Morgan dwelt on her last statement though, just look for the guy everyone is avoiding. How could her mom make her godfather someone everyone else hated?

A third visitor came into the bedroom, his hair neatly combed, looking natural in a suit. He was the suit-and-tie-to-work kind of guy, and she was scared to know if THAT was House. He LOOKED like someone people would want to avoid. "Are you Dr. House?" Morgan asked a third time hopefully. More hopeful than the first two times at least.

"No, James Wilson. You must be Morgan."

"You're the first one to know my name." Morgan observed thinking to herself, could he be my dad? No, not likely. He seemed like a really nice guy, her mom couldn't just hate a nice guy.

"Your neighbor, Mrs. Drew isn't it, told me where to find you." Wilson embraced her sympathetically. "My sincere condolences."

"And, let me guess, you worked with her in New Jersey." Morgan scoffed, more to herself than him, shrugging off his hug.

"Yes, I did." Wilson sat down on the bed and motioned for her to sit next to him. She did, but cautiously. "So are you going to live with your father or..."

"I never knew my dad, my mom wouldn't even tell me his name." Morgan told him. Though she had never met him before, she felt open to him. Perhaps he was like her mom in many senses: warm, open, caring. Few people were just like her mom. But Wilson was as close as she was getting. "But apparently I'm going to New Jersey."

She didn't sound thrilled. "We have grief councilors at the hospital, you know." He offered. "And I'm always there to listen."

"Thanks for the offer, but no thanks." She scoffed. "I can handle my own problems."

"You sound just like someone I know." Wilson observed with a slight grin. "My friend, Greg House." He turned on his toes to walk out.

"You know Dr. House?" She asked, drawing him back in the room.

"Of course I do. Who at PPTH didn't know him?" Wilson asked, Morgan hanging her head. "Well, I'll see you later, Morgan." And she walked away for a change.

The world that she knew was falling, but the things she was hearing about her godfather were nothing like what her mom told her. Unlike what she heard, she was nothing like him. And she'd remind herself that every minute until her eyes met his face.

*Review!*


	4. Part One, Chapter Three: Moving In

*Author's note at the bottom.*

Part One, Chapter Three: Moving In

Morgan sat in Wilson's black Toyota quietly, hardly making a sound. She didn't really have to TALK to Wilson, she figured, he was doing this for Mrs. Drew. Oh, she was starting to despise Mrs. Drew. Mrs. Drew was the one carting her off to live with her despised godfather. She asked her for help on finding her real father, which Mrs. Drew rolled her eyes at and changed the channel on the television. "So, Morgan, do you know why your mother wanted you to live with someone like House?" Wilson asked loudly, loud enough she could hear over her iPod on half volume.

"Ummm... Honestly, I don't know. She said I remind her of him or something." Morgan scoffed, removing one earbud. She HAD been enjoying Teardrop by Massive Attack up until he said something. "By what everyone has said about him, I guess my mom was off her rockers."

Wilson chuckled at this. Not a loud chuckle, just a soft muted ironic chuckle. He fiddled with his collar a little, other hand on the wheel, clearly having a lot of fun just chatting with Morgan.

"What's so funny?" She asked, quite loudly and brash. Her hair was blowing out the rolled down window, it was seventy-some degrees that February afternoon. Her hands were on her dark skirt, her gray sequined tank glittering in the sunshine. Her Converse high tops, the white ones she doodled all over with her marching band music from that previous fall, were up on the dashboard. Her school bag, a floral artsy bag, was in the floorboard; her suitcase in the trunk.

"That was something like House would've said." Wilson muttered under his breath. Morgan pretended not to hear the comment as they pulled up to an apartment. "221 B" was written above the door. "This is his place. Do you want me to walk you up?" He offered.

"I'm not five, contrary to what my mom and Mrs. Drew think; I can walk up to someone's door." She didn't mean to hurt his feelings, but somehow she felt she did. He stayed parked in the driveway, and waited as she walked up to the doorstep.

Morgan rang the doorbell, anxious to meet the man whom her mom trusted enough to take her in. Her godfather, the closest thing she was ever going to have to a father anyways. But, to her surprise, it wasn't a man who answered the door. It was a woman with dark hair and a deep tan, in a flowing pink top and yoga pants. Her hair was in a top knot, on her feet were a pair of Toms. Her smile was welcoming, her eyes showed a hidden darkness. Morgan analyzed it all. "Can I help you?" The woman asked. She had a strong action of some sort, she didn't recognize it.

Morgan didn't answer for a few seconds, she was lost in her thought. "Oh? Yes, I'm looking for Dr. House?" Morgan's voice was unusually frail, she felt like she was weak and helpless. If only for a moment, she thought about why she was here. No, that was a waste of time. She swore she was going to keep moving forward.

"Oh, Greg..." The woman called and went behind the door. "There's someone here to see you."

"I saw Wilson's car in the drive, tell him I don't want his company." A harsh, husky reply came from the living room.

"It's not Wilson." She continued. "It's some girl here to see you." The woman smiled at Morgan, peering behind the door. She put her hand on her shoulder hospitably, and lead her in. "Come in, darling, and I'll get you something to drink."

The man, clearly House, was in the living room. Sitting on the couch in a pair of athletic-style shorts in a vibrant shade of red, a gray tee shirt, white tube socks, and black Nikes. There was a cane to his right, though he didn't look nearly old enough to need one. His hair was graying, he had a scruffy beard, and these piercing blue eyes. Piercing blue eyes like her mom told her about. Eyes that matched those of her own, those "princess eyes". He spoke loudly. "Who is she?"

"Um..." The woman spun about to Morgan. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"Morgan." Morgan stated clearly.

"She's Morgan." The woman told him, then she turned to face Morgan again. "Nice to meet you Morgan, I'm Dominica." She flashed a brilliant white smile at the girl.

"So why is this Morgan here?" House was clearly to the point, just as brash and condescending to his wife as he was to her mom.

"You missed my mom's funeral." Morgan said very loudly, making sure the man could hear her.

"Well, if your mom was a patient, don't feel bad. I don't usually come to their funerals." He scoffed I that condescending sarcastic tone he seemed to have about him. Morgan walked into the living room.

"My mom wasn't a patient of yours." Morgan spat.

"Then why are you here?" He asked, trying to look past her to the hockey game on tv. She was standing in the center of the game.

"Dr. Wilson drove me here, he said I could find you here."

"And that has to do with a funeral...?" House was hoping she'd lead to a point, but his wife unplugged the tv as though not to cloud his thought process.

"My mom was a PPTH employee, she trusted you a lot." Morgan hissed. "I thought you'd come to bid a final farewell."

"Not really." House was quite harsh, looking at his wife with I-want-the-remote-control-back eyes.

"I'm Morgan Cameron," Morgan told him quite strongly. He sat up and looked directly at her. "My mom was Allison Cameron."

His wife looked at him curiously. "Greg, who's Allison Cameron?" She asked quietly.

"She was one of the doctors on my team, she dated Chase for some time..." He looked at Morgan carefully, scanning her for who she was exactly. "I see the resemblance. You look JUST like your mom."

"My mom said I look just like my dad." Morgan spat back. "But that's not the point. My mom left you as my legal guardian. You're my godfather, and my only family left." He stared blankly just a little past her.

"Greg." His wife looked at him with a sympathetic and sweet smile. "We can't turn her away."

"She's not a lost puppy. We can't just keep her." He scoffed. "She could be lying."

"She could be telling the truth."

"Everybody lies." Ah, he was the wise man who told her mom that. Then he turned to speak to Morgan directly. "I'm not here to take in boarders." He said. "Go back with Wilson, he loves kids."

Morgan walked out, just like that, and back to Wilson's car. "No one wants me!" She wailed, tears in her eyes begging to escape. But they wouldn't. She knew that one day, she would be wanted. Maybe not by House, maybe not by her dad. But by her heavenly father, when she would be with her mom as well.

*No, this isn't a Morgan suicide attempt. And House will come to his senses. But I suppose tonight she spends with Wilson.

Also, I want to say I HAD to include House's wife, she's too cool! I liked the last episode of them faking their happy marriage, that was so cool!

Another addition: take a vote on who Morgan's father is! It MAY be House, it MAY be Chase. Who knows, maybe it's Wilson! No, it's not Wilson, but it would be a turn of events. Review!*


	5. Part One, Chapter Four: Break

*I like Morgan, don't you?

Here's what's going on: Morgan is living with Wilson because House wouldn't agree with Dominica, which I realize is spelled with a "k" but I like it with a "c".

Well, here's something I want to note before telling the tale. There will be the team in this. And, part of me wanted to stick to an actual team, BUT I can't. So I built my own, basically. There's Chase, because he's still a candidate for Morgan's dad (and he's Australian, blonde and funny!). Then there's Chi Parks, I didn't like her at first but she has spunk. Then we add my own doctor: Doctor Andrew Brady, the anesthesiologist. Foreman's stupidly in charge, but in case you DIDN'T notice Cuddy is in DC, remember?

Review please. I've got four chapters and four reviews, I don't want to be another 5-to-4 story. I've been THAT before.*

Part One, Chapter Four: Break Before Healing

Two months lapsed.

Wilson gained custody of Morgan, he had explained to the social worker in Chesapeake as well as the one in Princeton that House simply refused to take in the girl. That was a battle easily won, actually. "You don't have a drug problem, you aren't trying to help your wife qualify for a green card, hell you're not even married. And you haven't been to jail. You're good to go." It was quite funny, actually, because this made Morgan a little happier. On their way back from the social worker's office, where he had got the papers officially signed, she spoke to him personally, without him speaking first.

"Thank you." She said quietly, comfortably seated in the passenger seat of his black Toyota. The window was closed for a change, the warm April air was not as pleasant as the February breezes. Her dark brown hair was tied back, her bangs falling out of the blue scrunchy-tied ponytail. She had on dark flared jeans and a Paris University sweatshirt, it was her mom's that she got when she was fifteen. With Morgan's fifteenth birthday creeping closer, it reminded her so much of her mom and what she was missing.

"What are you thanking me for?" Wilson asked, his sky blue collared shirt matching his checked green-and-blue tie, his black pants and socks and shoes typical for him. His hair was combed neatly, it always was. She would have figured that he used hairspray in it, but she would've picked up on that. She picked up on his daily habits over the past two months.

"Making me feel wanted." Morgan mused. She didn't have her iPod in her ear, it was in her pocket. She didn't want to tune out a moment like this. "You took me in when he didn't want me."

"No problem, Morgan. Any kid of Cameron's is a kid of mine." She raises an eyebrow at his statement. He thought to push his face into his hand, a face-palm, but did nothing. "Not literally, of course."

"You're taking care of me like a dad would, though." Morgan put her hand on Wilson's shoulder, as though comforting him, but she was honestly thanking him again. "You're trying."

"Morgan, you know that you're as close as I'm ever going to get to a daughter." Wilson admitted. He liked kids, he always had. He always dreamed of finding that "perfect girl" and settling down long enough to have kids. And he had settled down three times, thinking the women were perfect. To his dismay, none of them ever were.

"And you're the closest I'm ever going to get to a dad." She gulped, hearing her own words. Had she given up hope on her desperate search for the man that was her other parent?

Without another word she put in an earbud. The One That Got Away by Katy Perry played loudly from the 32- GB iPod touch. She usually didn't listen to the "popular" music, she found most of it quite annoying. Yet Morgan felt something about this song, the song she found on one of those many NOW CDs her mom had got for the two of them to enjoy. This song spoke to her, it made her dream.

She dreamt about her mom and dad. Her mom, in most of her New Jersey pictures, was a brunette. Morgan imagined her dad had blue eyes, and was probably pale with blonde hair. Short blonde hair, he was a smart-looking and wealthy man. He was the kind of guy that drove expensive vintage cars and wore nice gold watches. Who spoiled her mom rotten and threw her out on the street right before she had her. The happy part of her dream fell like this.

They pulled up at Wilson's, he had a nice new flat, a three-bed two-bath place. Morgan's room was on one side of the place, to the left from the front door. Her mom's bedroom suit was in the newly-lavender room, Wilson got it moved from the old house in Virginia to New Jersey. "I want you to be happy here, Morgan, and part of them is making sure you don't forget your life in Chesapeake." He told her when the moving van came carrying the bedroom suit. The pineapples carved in the bed.

Morgan's room was lavender, of course, which she told Wilson was her real favorite color. She never liked coral, she liked it on her walls but despised it in general. The pineapples carved into the bed were also in the vanity and chest-of-drawers, the last piece in her spacious closet. Her iHome was propped up on the vanity, the pretty vanity with the giant circular mirror. There were dozens of picture frames on the walls: of Morgan and her mom, Morgan and Avery, young Morgan and Mrs. Drew. And the most recent one was Wilson and Morgan.

Wilson's room was across the hall. Dark brown, similarly colored furniture. It wasn't really something many people could tolerate looking at for a long time, but it was something both Wilson and Morgan had gotten used to.

Morgan was up on a ladder, painting a little decorative work around the top of the lavender walls. The piece "Fur Elise" was a favorite of her's, she was painting the music around the room. Just like House she likes music, Wilson thought, but said nothing.

Morgan bent down to grab a brush that she put beside the third rung of the ladder, stubbornly stretching down from the eighth without losing her balance. But a foot slid down and got stuck on the metal piece holding the ladder up, collapsing it as she fell. "DOCTOR WILSON HELP!" Morgan screamed bloody murder as she saw her leg under the ladder and the paint everywhere. But her paint wasn't red...

"I'm taking you to the hospital." He said, as soon as he saw her, removing the ladder quickly as he could. There was blood, yes, from a cut on her lower leg from the metal piece. But her knee was what was under the ladder. He eased her off the floor and carried her out the door, seating her in the Toyota as painlessly as he could. She didn't remember what happened next.

...the next morning...

Chase was in the room with Wilson and Morgan. Morgan was asleep, the Australian looked from Wilson back to the girl from time to time and tried to find a resemblance. None. "Who's the girl?" He finally choked, his blonde hair growing back long. Long like it was when he was working for House all those years ago.

"That's Morgan. She's legally my daughter." That was something Wilson was never going to get tired of saying.

Chase thought a question, but didn't dare ask it. At least, not as Morgan started waking up. "Hello, Morgan, I'm doctor Chase." Chase introduced himself to the girl, who wiped sleep from her eyes and looked at him.

The man from her dreams, the one her dad looked like. "I've seen you before."

"I was the doctor that took care of you last night, you suffered quite a fall." Chase chuckled lightly, amused by how this girl might know him. Again, he didn't ask. Objective. "You hurt your knee pretty bad, you will be on crutches for the next long while."

"How do you use crutches?" Morgan asked quietly, quite embarrassed. Her mom worked in a hospital for as long as she had known and she had never had to use crutches.

"Oh, don't worry, they're pretty easy to use. Doctor Wilson can show you when you guys get home." Doctor Chase started out, as did Wilson.

"Wait." Morgan pleaded, making both men turn around. "You guys are going to leave me alone?" She pouted at them both.

"We have work, Morgan, but I'll take you to the cafeteria for lunch." Wilson agreed, and Morgan hung her head. Wilson pulled Chase to the side. "What are you going to do?"

"Work in the clinic. We don't have a case." Chase explained. "Why?"

"Someone stay in there and keep her company. At just about all times."

...a doctor comes in...

"Hello, miss, I'm Doctor Brady." Brady had red curls, a combo Morgan had never seen on a guy before. He had brown eyes, she would've expected green. He at least wore a green button-down under his labcoat, and she thought to start calling him the little leprechaun, then she realized how racist that sounded.

"Hi, Morgan." She offered her hand for him to shake it. Her crutches hadn't moved an inch.

"Are you feeling any better, kid? You haven't even tried going anywhere." Dr. Brady didn't exactly seem concerned with this information, but he did care. "Dr. Parks said you were asleep when she saw you."

"I want to go somewhere, but I don't want to fall."

"I'll teach you how to use your crutches. They're pretty easy to use." And Dr. Brady taught her.

"Hey, leprechaun!" House charged into the room, seeing Morgan crutch around the room. Brady sat on the bedside and watched. It was unbelievable: a, how lazy he was being and b, how good she was at using three limbs instead of two. "What are YOU doing here?" He pointed at Morgan, and you know she saw him.

"I fell off a ladder and hurt my knee." Morgan snapped at him.

"Clearly not your first time on crutches, correct?"

"Actually it is." She told him quite loudly, then crutched past him and Brady. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go find Doctor Wilson. He promised me lunch."

The attitude, the arts, the learning. House pondered on the girl quickly getting away. She's got to be my daughter.

*Review, because MAYBE she is!*


	6. Part One, Chapter Five: Memories

*Welcome welcome visitors! And recurring lurkers... Or readers...

This chapter is devoted simply to Cameron and House, through his memories.

Read already, won't you? Finish it with a tall glass of milk and review once you're done. It's following your manners.*

Part One, Chapter Five: Memories

He sat on the couch, twirling his cane in his hand like a baton. His eyes glistened, tears in them, though he would never admit it. He had been crying, but he couldn't figure out why. Morgan was just another girl.

But she wasn't! It was unusual to see Cameron's daughter. She wasn't just another kid, she was the child of someone he knew very well. Someone who loved him for real. The doctor with the long brown hair, he knew she always wanted to be a blonde and made it as golden as she would've hoped. With the gray-blue eyes that twinkled with some dark hope. A woman so tortured she saw the good side of everything, despite the odds.

He imagined Cameron for a moment. He saw her in her red dress and her hair redder than usual, probably a reflection of the dress, her hair in those perfect ringlets. Black heels on her feet, her arm entwined with Foreman's. That sickened him a little bit, imagining if she had- at one point- liked Foreman too. Then the image faded.

Another one appeared. Her hair was up, bangs in her face swept to one side. There were bags under her eyes, her makeup from the previous day faded from where she hadn't taken it off. Her shirt was cream and ruffly with the cap sleeves, her pants were khaki. Same heels as she wore with the dress, only here they looked a little less dressed up. "You guys look like crap. What did you do last night?" House had asked snarkily, his reply was a little more comedic than he had hoped. "Jello shots and wild sex, what else?" When Cameron was tired from an all-nighter, she was quite a funny person. But all other days of the week...

A third ghost of his past appeared. He had so far seen pretty Cameron, and tired Cameron, but what was next was a little new; even for him. He saw him, sitting in his office with his feet up on the desk, probably asleep. He sat up as soon as he heard the door open, expecting Cuddy to come in. But to his surprise, it wasn't Cuddy. It was Cameron. She had on her lab coat, over a low-cut sweater. Cameron had something in her hand, but House didn't care to look. "What are you doing?" He asked quietly, standing as she walked towards him, she stood on her toes to reach out and touch his face. In an instant she kissed him, and he didn't pull away. He didn't want to, despite how much he pretended to hate her. Yes, he kissed back. He wanted to do so much more than just a kiss. Yet as the contents of her hand came closer to him, he snapped out of it. A needle came crashing to the ground as he pulled away. "You kissed back." She said in amazement. Yes he did, but he wanted so much more than just a kiss.

The fourth was a vivid memory, one no matter how hard he tried he couldn't remove from his mind. It was more than their lips hardly brushing, the breath between them shared. It was more than his sexist comments. More than the occasional times she reached out and touched his arm to stop him. It was him, at her house, both of them drunk out of their minds winding up together against the odds. The two together were a toxic combination, anyone could have warned them of that.

A toxic combination.

A toxic combination.

A toxic combination.

Those three words played over in his mind as he envisioned Morgan. She had Cameron's dark hair, dark hair like he had in his youth. A thin build, a beautiful frame. From the neck down she was an exact replica of Cameron. She had the unruly attitude of House, the good heart of Cameron. A toxic combination, huh? A real combination.

It came to him then. It wasn't that he was Morgan's godfather, no no. He had to have been Morgan's real father too!

...comes home to Dominica...

"Greg, you never told me about Dr. Cameron." Dominica said, carrying tonight's dinner of barbecued chicken and rice on each of the separate plates. She was less formal than she usually was, just black slacks and a nice maroon sweater. He was in jeans, Nikes, and a tee shirt. Typical House stuff.

"Did I now?" He asked quietly as a plate with a mound of chicken and rice found its way in front of his face.

"When Morgan came over, I'm sure you remember Morgan." Dominica smiled. She saw in his eyes that he knew.

"It's hard to forget someone who keeps coming back into your life." He scoffed, not sure if he actually meant what he was saying. "Morgan fell and hurt her knee pretty bad."

"Is she alright?"

"She's on crutches, at Jimmie's place." House said half-heartedly. Not where her mother wanted her, but so far it's as close to me as she'll probably ever come.

"We have to have her over for dinner sometime." Dominica decided. "After all, she's our goddaughter." A forkful of his chicken rose to his mouth before hissed next words. "Do tell me about Cameron, though."

"She was a doctor on my team for a couple years, a good friend. Chase's girlfriend for a time or two. Took care of me when I got shot. She was the best employee I ever had."

"Aha. So I take it you two were very close."

"Closer than you'll ever believe." He mumbled under his breath. But she heard him.

"Tell me how close exactly." Conveniently enough, the phone rang. It was Wilson.

"Wilson... I want to get a paternity test on Morgan. Yes... give her some Motrin for the pain, it'll subside in a couple days." He hung up. "We were close enough that I'm probably Morgan's dad. Close enough?"

*For those of you who want some Hameron to join this place. And this concludes part one.*


	7. Part Two, Chapter One: Feels Like Home

*I'm six for six now, my chapters and reviews are even! Now, team, let's get y'all ahead of the game! Can I go for eight after chapter seven? Pwease?

This next small portion has to do with House AND Chase and their confusing relationships with Cameron. Chameron was a fail for me, but it has to be included whether true or not. Because it makes Morgan's paternity so much more entertaining!

Note: she's still under custody of Wilson. Though House and Dominica are going to try to bargain with that...*

Part Two, Chapter One: Feels Like Home

Dominica sat beside House, but sitting to form a triangle with Wilson. Morgan was off at school, she went to this new fancy private school with uniforms and Princeton's top rich kids. House wouldn't have sent her to one of those hellholes, he told himself, public school teaches important morals. Diversity and acceptance. "So what do you two want?" Wilson asked, odd to find the three of them in his office. In a prison, House and Dominica behind bars for their government scam, maybe. But this was unusual, no denying that.

"I want to spend more time with Morgan." House announced, less of a request than Wilson would've liked.

"Should've thought've that before you turned her out in the cold." Wilson scoffed.

"I was... not thinking." Ah, as usual, House blamed something else for his actions. Not technically, of course, technically he was blaming his lack of consciousness. Consciousness of emotion, that is.

"Well, if you clean up your act, you could see her more often." Wilson explained. "Stay out of jail, no drinking, get off the Vicodin..."

To his surprise it was Dominica who spoke next. "He's been working to get off of pain medication, seeing a physical therapist for real." Wilson's eyes were huge at this.

"Wow." Was all he had to say. He saw House's mouth turned up into a smile. "And, Dominica, how do you feel on this?"

"I like Morgan. She has spunk, and she's someone he really cares about. It would be like having a daughter of my own." Wilson didn't doubt Dominica as much as he would've doubted House. He would've doubted his own best friend.

"I'll talk to Morgan about it." Wilson's cell phone went off, vibrating and playing Sexy and I Know It. He glared at House, who was laughing hysterically. It was something House would've pulled, definitely. But he hadn't. "Oh, it's Morgan's school. I have to take this."

"Really, Greg?" Dominica asked with a glare. He looked innocent, which was either a lie or a very bad sign. "We came here to discuss a very important matter."

"And you think I screwed with Wilson's phone?" House asked, hurt. "I can't believe you'd think that LITTLE of me!"

"It's not beneath you." Wilson whipped around and hung up, looking at the couple with his hand having a firm grasp of his hair in his fist.

"I have to go pick Morgan up from school... her play down in Chesapeake is tonight and they still need her." Wilson let out a sigh. "She told me she's been practicing really hard to keep her role, she called Avery every day... on my phone." House's hysterical chuckling continued.

"I'll take Morgan to her play." House offered. There wasn't an ounce of sarcasm about him. Nothing. Wilson even knew he was serious. Dominica knew he was serious. But no one would've believed it any other day.

"House, this is a really big deal. We have to get a hotel, she'll be there for three days." Wilson explained, hoping to turn him away from it.

"I've got a nice suit, I've got a taste for middle school theater."

"No you don't." Wilson and Dominica both said simultaneously.

"No I don't, but I'm going to support my daughter." He smiled, both other parties knew this was correct.

"Goddaughter." Wilson corrected.

"Right... the innocent-until-proven-guilty theory. She's my kid, I think, or else Morgan's mommy spent her time at a side-job brothel." Even to the departed, Wilson thought, House is an ass. "I'm taking her, you've got work."

"So do you." Wilson reminded him, Dominica said nothing.

"Yes, but I can sweet talk my boss, remember?" And like that, House was gone. Leaving Dominica and Wilson speechless.

...later in Foreman's office...

Chase had never been called in there like this. Foreman had never had someone arrange a meeting in his office. But that was House for you.

House walked in five minutes late for his own meeting. He was in a gray suit, a nice one, a white collared shirt and a pine green tie. "Have either of you heard the theory that deaths come in threes?" He asked loudly as he walked in.

"You look nice, House." Chase's Aussie accent rang out, he was avoiding the topic at hand.

"You're deflecting, and I don't have the time to deflect."

"One of your patients died, okay then. You never go to any of their funerals." Foreman pointed out.

"Ah, how right you are." House limped around the two, circling them like a vulture does his carcass. "And I'm not going to a funeral."

"Then why did you bring up death?" Chase asked.

"Because it's valid." House scoffed. "One of three gone, you two are next."

Both other doctors raised eyebrows at this.

"Cameron, you dimwits. We're talking about Cameron."

"Yeah, I remember." Foreman muttered bitterly. "Drunk driver, America's biggest tragedy."

"Cameron died?" Chase asked, the naive tone in his voice rising.

"A few months ago, yeah. Didn't you know?" Foreman interrogated. "So what do you want House?"

"I'm taking Morgan to a play in Chesapeake. I need the weekend off."

"Granted." Foreman tried to shoo him out. But Chase had more questions.

"Morgan our patient?" He asked.

"No, Morgan my new dog." The sarcasm was richer than usual. "Of course the patient. Morgan Cameron?"

"Cameron had a KID?" This almost contained fury.

"Yep. Well, gotta run. Got a show to save." And House was gone again, ready to jump on the back of his motorcycle and pick up Morgan. Morgan Cameron, he said to himself, daddy's coming to save the play.

*Maybe. But review, get even with me!*


	8. Part 2, Chapter 2: The Show Goes On

*This is going to be fun.

I love eighties music for some reason, almost as much as I like Cameron. So this chapter has to do with great eighties music, Avery and Morgan and an overprotective godfather, and some super cool multi-colored coat.

Review or it'll me eight-to-six, and that would kill me.*

Part Two, Chapter Two: Show Goes On

"Morgan Cameron for dismissal." Rang out the overhead, red creeping into Morgan's cheeks. Usually they would've called the teacher and kept it quiet. But this wasn't normal. It wasn't the voice of one of the councilors or the secretaries or the principal. It was the voice she knew a little too well, and it wasn't that of Doctor Wilson.

She grabbed her bag and darted down to the office. There he was: her godfather, in a gray suit with a green tie. She was shocked, he looked so much nicer in a suit than in his athletic gear. Morgan, as a matter of fact, felt underdressed at the sight of this. And she was in khaki pants, a white collared shirt, and black heels of her mom's. "What are YOU doing here?" She scoffed, quite meanly, her arms folded across her chest.

"I'm taking you to your play." He announced, signing the sign-out sheet in the front office.

"Why not Doctor Wilson?"

"Well, you see kiddo, Wilson is a very busy doctor. He has too many dying patients to leave, but I haven't had a case in a while, and I have a whole TEAM to take care of one person." Morgan rolled her eyes at House, but reluctantly she followed him into the parking lot.

Then she saw the motorcycle. "Oh no, there's NO way in hell I'm riding that."

"Don't worry, it's a safe ride." House reassured her, putting his hand on her shoulder. It's almost instantly shrugged off. "Your mom rode on the back of this baby dozens of times."

"She also treated tens of dozens of dying patients who rode one of these." She pointed at the motorcycle.

"Don't worry, I have an extra helmet." He tossed her the helmet, she glared at him with an icy gaze. "I'm trying to get you to your show on time, so can we hurry up?"

She hopped on the motorcycle behind him, wrapping her arms around him for a sense of protection. He made the engine roar, sending a shiver up her spine.

"You cold, kid?" He asked Morgan loudly before they pulled out of the parking lot.

"A little." She replied, wrapping her arms tighter. He pointed to a bag on the back of the motorcycle.

"There's a jacket in there, Wilson told me to get it for you." House lied. Dominica had got the jacket shortly after she had met Morgan, and House knew it was for Morgan despite the fact that she claimed it was her's. Perhaps it was the size, which was two too small for Dominica. He pretended not to notice.

"Thanks." It was a nice leather jacket, a nice warm one. It cut the wind, fine zipper. No hood, but it didn't need one. It was a motorcycle jacket after all.

Her mom wouldn't have approved her riding on the back of any motorcycle in her lifetime, much less the one of a pill-popping doctor. Maybe her mom wasn't as happy as she seemed, or she just hated Morgan. Hated Morgan for her dad, she supposed. But Doctor House was a good man, he was proving that. He was trying hard to he a good guy, fixing his mistakes.

...small diner in Chesapeake...

The motorcycle pulled up at five forty five exactly, and it was time for dinner. Morgan's arms were stiff from being wrapped around House for so long, her jacket sleeves had creases from where it had folded around him. He smiled and looked back at the ever-growing smile on her own face. "Hungry, kiddo?" He asked quietly, the roaring engine seeming to die.

"I'd be surprised if you actually knew my name." She coughed on the remaining exhaust that filled the air around the bike.

"Morgan." He corrected himself as she hugged him. "What are you doing?"

"You knew mom took me here every Sunday." Morgan released the semi-creeped out man from her grip. He almost took her back into his arms, but thought it inappropriate for the time being. "Didn't you, Doctor House?"

Of all the traditions for Cameron to carry... "Of course I did."

..flashback...

It had been about three months since she had quit working at PPTH. She had requested to meet him near her new Virginia home, he agreed quickly. "Meet me at the Silver Diner." She whispered over the phone when planning the meeting, the hustle-and-bustle of the hospital making nice background music.

He picked out a nice shirt and paired it with jeans and a suit jacket, business-casual. He needed her back, in more ways than one. As a doctor. As a companion. As a crony. As a stalker. He needed it all, he needed all of her.

She picked out a maxi dress, one perfect for the nice February weather, much better in Virginia than in New Jersey. In Princeton it snowed this time of year. But in Chesapeake, it got into the seventies. She wore her hair up sloppily, it wasn't down and curled as she knew he would recognize. It was up and back and out of her face, like she liked it. But she wore it down for him. She did everything she did for him in Princeton. Now she was free as a bird.

He boarded a plane to the Norfolk airport, hoping to get there as soon as he could. He hoped she wasn't eating with him during her lunch break, in case he was late. I mean... like he cared, he reminded himself quietly. He was the infamous doctor Gregory House, he didn't give a damn about anyone. Did he?

She got to the diner early, earlier than she expected him there. She invited him for noon, it was eleven. Why was she even here already? Cameron couldn't remember. All she saw was the jukebox calling her name. The jukebox was full of older songs: sixties and seventies and eighties, the first and last being her favorites. So she pulled a quarter from her purse and turned on some Men At Work.

He could hear the saxophone solo from the parking lot. He knew who it was playing the song on the jukebox; he remembered that when it played at one of those big hospital fundraisers, the poker game, she was dancing with Foreman while Chase flirted with innocent bystanders. True enough, when he walked through the doors, Cameron was standing by the jukebox, back to him, with a mound of her chocolatey brown hair in a bun.

"Long time, no see." He said very loudly. This made her turn around quickly, revealing her expanding stomach. His eyes must've widened a whole lot, his jaw dropped. Cameron... pregnant. That was a new one.

"House!" She started up to him and wrapped him in a giant hug. "I miss you guys so much." As soon as she released, they walked to a booth and sat down across from one another.

"The team feels different without you." He commented, then finally decided to cut to the chase. "So why did you leave."

"Because I'm pregnant, and I couldn't stay." She answered quietly.

"I noticed you were pregnant." House gestured at her stomach. "But why leave Princeton?"

"I had to get away from all that. My actions would be talked about, bets would be made, and whatever I did with the kid would..." She trailed off, he could see tears in her eyes. He grabbed Cameron's hand and held it across the table for comfort.

"As long as you're happy..." She hung her head, and his concern rose at this. "But you're NOT happy, are you?"

"It's just too quick for me. I wanted to get married before I had a baby, but it doesn't look like THAT is happening."

"What are you going to do?" House asked, Cameron taking her hand away from him and placing it on her stomach.

"Probably putting the kid up for adoption, I'll never be a good mom." Cameron shrugged.

"Whatever you plan to do with it, think it through. Because once you make a decision, there's no going back." House smiled at her, and the corners of her mouth turned up into a smile as well.

"Thank you." Cameron continued to smile. "Now let's eat, I'm starving."

...end flashback...

They made it to the theater around six o'clock that Friday evening, motorcycle by the back stage door. "I'll be in there soon, Morgan. Go get ready." House called off. Morgan ran up to the doors, but she was greeted by this five-foot-something African American boy with green eyes. She wrapped him in a giant hug and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Avery!" She screamed, hugging him tightly. "I've missed you SOOOOOO much!"

"How's Princeton, Morgan?" He asked as he guided her into the building.

"Cold, unpleasant, but full of good people. Good doctors." She pointed at her knee, which was now quite healed up.

"Yeah. How was your recovery?"

"I'm better, I'm here now. That should be a sign."

"Morgan, you know an injury never stopped you before." He said. "Last fall you dropped a chair down your leg and had to get stitches. You didn't even cry."

"That's different. I was a walk-on role. It didn't hurt to do my part, just to WALK. And it was a lesson. Never carry chairs wearing a skirt."

House came up to Morgan, Avery was flabbergasted by how tall the man in front of him was.

"Oh, and Avery, this is my godfather, Doctor House." House offered his hand to the boy, who didn't take it. "Doctor Wilson couldn't make it, though."

"You're raised by two doctors?" Avery questioned.

"One." She explained. "Doctor Wilson. But Doctor House, as well as Dr. Chase, Dr. Parks, and Dr. Brady... they took care of me when I fell. They're the reason I'm here."

Avery now smiled a the man. "Thanks for bringing Morgan back to me."

"So, Morgan, is he your boyfriend or something?" House asked, not quite loud enough for Avery to hear, he hoped, but Morgan could.

"No, Avery's my ex." She clarified.

"Last year." Avery continued.

"But he's gay."

House just looked at the two. This was the epitome of the platonic friendship if he ever saw it. "Well, break a leg you two." He felt no threat there for Morgan or Avery. He would, however, threaten Avery if somehow Morgan got hurt. "I'll see you after the show."

*That may have been a little long, but I liked it. I hope everyone else does too. Show me by reviewing though, or favoriting or alerting! I need some sort of feedback!*


	9. Part 2, Chapter 3: Remember NotTo Forget

*Short chapter, because the next one will be really long and needs a good-sized break. Sorry.

Review please. I've got seven reviews now, but like everything else I want just a little more. Please!*

Part Two, Chapter Three: Remember Not To Forget

"Some folks dream of the wonders they'll do

Before their time on this planet is through

Some just don't have anything planned

They hide their thoughts and their heads in the sand.

I don't say who is wrong, who is right

But if by chance you are here for the night

Then all I need is an hour or two

To tell the tale of a dreamer like you..."

House had never heard a little girl sing so angelically. She wasn't little, not as little as you could attach to the beautiful child-like melody. And it warmed his heart to know he had a child so talented.

Innocent until proven guilty, he reminded himself. That's what he promised Jimmie.

He was jumping to conclusions. Conclusions he knew were right, though. It was two possibilities: Chase or himself. And he was almost positive it wasn't Chase. They would've gotten married and rode off into a sunset had it been.

...flashback...

Her mom smiled at the baby without a word. Biting her lip, her arms folded across her chest. "A beautiful baby girl, Allison." One of the nurses told her. She hardly recognized her own first name. She had been Cameron for so long that she was unaccustomed to be Allison at all.

"I suppose she is." She tried to feel hate towards the child, figuring it would make her easier to give up. Put her in better hands, four hands instead of two. Families still worked like that on rare occasion, didn't they?

"What are you going to do with her?" Cameron figured it was in a nurse's nature to be nosy, even the ones at PPTH were ridiculously nosy. "I heard you tell someone about adoption after your appointment a few weeks ago."

Damn my loud mouth, she told herself silently. "I don't know." The nurse walked away before she could ask for help deciding. But she knew it was her decision.

She promised House, she reminded herself. She'd give up the baby and come back. Or could she...?

...end flashback...

House met her after the show holding a single pink rose with a black ribbon around it. "You did very well, Morgan." He congratulated her honestly, she took the rose in her clutch. Avery, shortly afterwards, pulled her to a little concession table covered with tee shirts. House limped after the two.

On each shirt was a familiar graphite Christmas tree. "My trees!" She wrapped Avery in a giant hug. "How did you save all my trees?"

"Copied them from your old desk, put 'em in a scanner." Avery said, then handed the woman at the table a ten dollar bill. "One for Morgan."

The lady handed Morgan a shirt, Morgan eyed Avery as she heard him chuckle. "Why my trees?"

"Theater department felt awful when you left, wanted to help out. With the shirts, it was guaranteed you'd never be forgotten. And with the money we can pay to do next year's show." Avery grinned at her devilishly, she felt tears crawl into her eyes. Tears of joy.

"I'll be there to watch." She sighed, hugging him again. "I'll always be here."

And the two walked up, leaving House beside the table. He pulled out a wad of money from his wallet, a hundred dollars when counted. "Ten please."

*What's up his sleeve? Review and wait until the next bit is available.*


	10. Part 2, Chapter 4: Scrapbook

*Morgan's childhood, Morgan's present. And Morgan's present to the present? The secrets of this story will be revealed.

So okay: I just want to ask a favor to EVERYONE who is reading this. Review. I know that a lot of people don't, which is kind of depressing, because I love to hear what you guys think will happen next. And usually it will.

So here goes the memories. *

Part Two, Chapter Four: Scrapbooks

There was something in a large box, a large box that Wilson had found in Morgan's new room. Morgan had been home about three days, but she spent most of every afternoon after school alone in her room.

To make matters worse, House had been avoiding him too. He had a scheme, he figured, to prank Brady or Parks or Chase. Even to prank Wilson himself. The blinds were always closed now, and he never let anyone in. EXCEPT by appointment. And that was scarier than House being all alone in the first place.

He walked into Morgan's room one afternoon, while Morgan was at school. He was shocked to find the box open, since she never touched it or mentioned it before. It was full of books. No, not books. A scrapbook. A scrapbook and journals and textbooks.

"What are you doing?" She asked, seeing him in her room. She tossed her backpack to the ground by her door, making a "plop" that echoed off the carpet. He obviously hadn't heard her bus pull up, not in time to make him leave her room.

"I was... cleaning up." He stammered, tripping over his own words. Wilson fiddled with his tie, he always seemed to do that when he didn't know what to say. It was his tell, and Morgan quickly picked up on it.

"My room's clean." She pointed out. "I just have a box to put in my closet." Wilson and Morgan both looked at the box. When their gazes met again, she felt as though she could read Wilson like a book. "That's what this is about isn't it?"

He hung his head with guilt. "Curiosity killed the cat." He held his left hand with his right sheepishly. "Sorry for invading."

"Mom always did that." She explained. "It really doesn't bug me, it just... no one was as interested in me as my mom was." Morgan was so soft-spoken, unlike House. It was one major difference in the two of them, possibly the only difference. Cameron wasn't even QUITE as quiet as Morgan was, Wilson couldn't put a finger on where she could've learned that.

"Then you wouldn't mind if I asked to take a look in the box." Wilson hoped not to set her off, make Morgan in any way mad. A mad Morgan was someone nobody in their right mind wanted to deal with.

Morgan shrugged. "Just a scrapbook. Nothing really interesting." She sank down on her bed and pulled the box towards her, gesturing for Wilson to sit beside her. "I haven't seen each of the pages were made."

"I didn't know your mom scrapbooked." Wilson wondered as she pulled it out of the box. It was leather-bound with ebony leather, with elephants printed in gray on the faded black.

"She didn't." Morgan explained holding the book in her lap. "Mrs. Drew did. Mrs. Drew believed that if you had something special you should show it off and play it up, hence the reason she made such good scrapbooks. But Mom was a little more skeptical. She thought that if you had something you loved, you protected it and let it stay close to you." Morgan smiled at this. "Ever since I was a little girl, Mrs. Drew and mom always took the best pictures. Mrs. Drew, she was my nanny when my mom was at work, put all the pictures into a scrapbook for her and gave it to her-from me-on mother's day." A chuckle was heard from the lips of Morgan Cameron, the first of their kind in New Jersey.

"So you were raised by a nanny?" Wilson asked. He never could've seen Cameron carting off her kid, or any kid for that matter, to live with someone other than a relative. To tell the truth, Wilson saw Cameron as a maternal figure.

"Mrs. Drew was a high school graduate paying her way through college. I was a baby, she was our neighbor." Morgan clarified. "Mom had to work the most obscene hours, saying the cool cases came into the ER late." She bit her lip and gripped the front cover. "Those cool cases paid for the house."

"I completely understand." Wilson put a hand on her shoulder. "How long did you have a nanny? Isn't she a teacher or something?"

"Guidance councilor, yes." Morgan recalled her times with Mrs. Drew. "She was my nanny, I suppose, until I was five."

"And?" Wilson asked quietly. "The scrapbook?"

"She got me into it, mom loved the creativity it had." This was the most Morgan had ever spoken about Cameron, Wilson noted. Acceptance is on the steps to recovery from loss, right? "I made one for mom every year after that."

"Then let's take a look at this scrapbook, shall we?" Wilson flipped open the book to reveal a page full of photos of an infant Morgan.

In two of them there was Cameron holding little baby Morgan: who was born with a tuft of blonde hair and the same "princess eyes" she had today. In a third was the same baby in a young woman's arms. "Who is that?" Wilson asked, pointing at the woman. No, not a woman. A young woman.

"Mrs. Drew." She said clearly. "She was eighteen when I was born." Morgan twirled her short hair around her finger, which she always did.

Wilson was hardly believing that that nice young woman was the same dazed woman in mourning at the funeral that he had met. "Wow."

On the next page was a large picture of Morgan being held by a pastor. She was wrapped in a towel, wearing a white dress. Her hair was longer and still as disturbingly blonde as it was in previous pictures. Under the bottom was written in neat cursive, Morgan (age 1) at her baptism. "Your mom was very anti-religious here. Is this where Mrs. Drew took you?"

"Of course not! Mom took me here every other Sunday, whenever she didn't have to work." Morgan continued. "On the other days, when she did have to work or something, she took me out to the Silver Diner down the street on her lunch break."

Wilson raised an eyebrow.

"She was agnostic, not atheistic." Morgan scoffed and flipped pages quickly. "I have homework, Doctor Wilson. I'd love to stay and chat, but Mr. Duncan gave us extra geometry as a gift."

"What about the scrapbook?" He asked as she started to head into the kitchen, where she always did her homework. She always enjoyed math homework with a side of girl scout cookies and a glass of milk, english work with apple slices, social studies with a helpful portion of ramen (seeing as that was always done after dinner), and science with absolutely nothing.

"Take it with you to work or something, you're working the night shift tonight aren't you? Like every other Wednesday?" Morgan offered a valid question. A question he had almost forgotten the answer to.

"You're right!" He shouted, his hand creating a face palm and a loud smack across his forehead. "But it's your prized possession."

"I'm sure Dr. House will want a look at it." And how right she was.

...PPTH, night shift...

A loud thud on his desk. "What is this?" He asked, as his friend dropped a book on his desk upon entry.

"It's Morgan's. She figured you'd be interested." Wilson started as his snarky doctor friend took a peek into the book.

"Why would she think that? Because I cared enough to go to her damned play or..."

"Because, House, you pull the father card." Wilson observed as his friend closed the scrapbook.

"The what?" House had no idea what he was talking about. He had hardly spent twenty four hours alone with Morgan, what was this "father card" nonsense?

"You really play up paternal instinct with Morgan. You act like a caring human being around her." Not that Wilson's observation was far from the truth, of course.

"Or I could just hate the rest of you morons." House scoffed in that same subject-avoiding tone that Morgan had used time and time again on Wilson. "Besides, I can pull one of those father card things. I'm her dad."

"No you're not." Wilson was going to argue this point again.

"Okay, this is like the fifth time that you've said this. Is there SOMETHING I don't know that went on between you and Cameron?" Wilson looked into the distance. House's jaw dropped. "Jimmie Wilson!"

"I called her by her first name, for starters. Allison Cameron was a friend and a colleague, nothing more." Wow, Wilson was blunt. House would've beat around that bush for hours! (Only he didn't exactly use first names often, names were hard to remember.)

"So you have nothing saying I'm NOT Morgan's dad." House guessed.

"I have probability on my side." Wilson explained this thought carefully so that his words couldn't be twisted around by the cunning Doctor House. "Look, you and Cameron were together once right?" House managed a nod. "She and Chase were constant, you caught them in the janitor's closet how many times?"

"Six." House grumbled. Being wrong was not his strong suit.

"I don't think I have to say anything else." Wilson started to exit, but felt House's snarky comment rising in his breath. "Chase is her dad."

"Let me do a paternity test then." House would bicker HIS point until it was proven right.

"I said no the first time, I'll say it again."

"Then she'll never have a dad."

"For now I'M her dad." Wilson fussed. "She's in my care because her self-proclaiming daddy didn't want her." His words cut House like glass shards.

"I'll fix that." House whipped out his wallet and grabbed a fifty dollar bill. "Fifty bucks she'll love me by her birthday."

July, he doesn't have that kind of time. Wilson's reasoning was on his side. "And the fifty's mine if she hasn't changed?" House nodded and held out his hand. "Deal."

*A bet and a scrapbook! What about those shirts? And Avery? And Morgan's birthday around the bend, she will be fifteen! Review cuz I'm SURE you have ideas or at least opinions!*


	11. Part 2, Chapter 5: Trees

*This is going to be a great big ball of sunshine, know that? We've got House making a bet with Wilson, a still befuddled Chase, a fun and Morgan-loving team, and a whole bunch of tee shirts! What more could y'all ask for?

Warning: implied past Huddy. Gotta include why Cuddy's gone.

Review please, I realize most people don't care whether or not I update but I think now I'm the only one who cares.*

Part Two, Chapter Five: Trees

Time lapse, two months. June.

It was unusual for her phone to ring this early in the morning, she read her clock carefully. It was seven o'clock on another typical Tuesday morning. But the caller ID was more unusual that the time. It was the name of the man with the piercing blue eyes and sexist slurs that she used to call he favorite employee.

House.

Of course she picked up the phone! With a half-eaten bowl of rice crispies at her seat and a red robe partially tied around her waist, she kissed Rachel on the cheek as she darted out the door and ran to the bus. "Hello?" She asked, her voice sounding more tired than usual.

"Cuddy, I have a favor to ask of you." The voice was the husky strong voice of House, determined as ever.

"Oh god." She muttered, her eyes rolling and her hand hitting her forehead. Even from miles away, he could make her act the same way. This was common. What was uncommon was him actually asking for permission to talk first.

"It's nothing bad." He reassured her. Cuddy was a hard person to assure of things, she was far from gullible and very hard-headed. Underneath all that stubbornness and the low-cut blouses was a golden heart, the kind that would continue to listen to him despite whatever he said.

"Carry on then." She shrugged and sank onto her couch. "I've got work in an hour, so hurry along with it."

"Thank you." He paused, preparing to say his thoughts very clearly and loudly. "I want to start by apologizing for everything that I did to you and Rachel, I should've never let you leave Princeton let alone be the reason you left."

These words were new to her. Was THE Greg House APOLOGIZING? He never apologized for anything! This was new to her, so she put her hand on he mouth and let him keep talking.

"And I have also started getting help for the bad actions I've made, like you suggested." He smiled as he said this, it was as if she could hear his smile because she was smiling too.

"You're telling me this five years later? Why?" She raised an eyebrow skeptically, still smiling.

"I'm trying to change. You always told me to." He reminded her. And how true it was! She always asked for House to give up Vicodin, or to behave. To see a psychologist. And now he was?

"You couldn't change then, but you CAN now. What's the change?" She asked, curious of the answer.

"Dominica and I..." She waited a little longer. "Are trying to adopt Cameron's daughter."

"I met her briefly at her funeral." Cuddy remembered vividly the dark-haired blue eyed girl mourning in the back bedroom. "But why would YOU want to adopt a kid? Or even an animal!" She liked this new House.

"I am a changed man."

"There's something more isn't there? Something more than adopting your lackey's kid."

"She's my kid." House stated clearly, and he heard a gasp from the other line.

"R-r-really?" Was the squeaked reply of Lisa Cuddy.

"Well, Wilson won't let me do a paternity test, but she's just like me. Music, rebel, outsider." House thought long and hard about his daughter. Cuddy spoke before he could continue.

"She had your eyes." Cuddy remembered vaguely, those blue eyes. Bluer than the ocean, thoughts and dreams and years swimming in them.

"And her birthday is coming up, I have something huge planned." House said loudly, his gruff voice softened by her. "Which is why I need your help."

"Great." She mused. "What is it?"

"I need you to come up to Princeton for a weekend in July. With Rachel, if you'd like. She's eleven now, right?"

"Still ten, until December." She was surprised he remembered how old Rachel was, even that close.

"Right."

"So when do I need to be there?" Cuddy asked. She was more than willing to help House prove how caring he was.

"July 7 and July 8 sound right." He answered looking at the calendar on the wall. "Her birthday's July 6 I believe."

"I'll be there. Rachel, too." Cuddy answered. "So what do I need for my trip?"

"I got these shirts from Morgan's old school, got one for everyone. Everyone who knew Cameron well, and my team."

"That's sweet of you, House." She said genuinely. New House was pleasant and trying and eager to please. "I'll be there."

"See you in a month." He followed her lead of leaving.

"Bye, House."

...later on at work...

Another one of those great meetings, Foreman figured. Then he saw Chase sitting in his office. Which wasn't a good sign. "What are YOU doing here?" Foreman asked Chase quietly, sitting at his desk and looking him in the eye as their seats seem to be across from one another.

"I got a call that you wanted to talk to me?" Chase answered diligently.

"Well I don't." Foreman made that very clear. "House as usual..."

"But I do." The cane that opened the door for their gray haired colleague was a tell sign for the two. "One for you." He threw a tee shirt at Foreman. "And one for the wombat." Another shirt flew toward Chase.

They opened up their shirt rolls to reveal on them a gray Christmas tree. "A Christmas tree?" Chase asked quietly.

"Morgan drew them." House answered, seeing Chase's eyes light up like a lightbulb.

"Why are you giving these to us?" Foreman asked.

"I'm throwing her a party for her birthday, inviting everyone she would've grown up with in Princeton." House smiled devilishly at the two men. "One of my better plans."

"Who said it was your place to plan something for Morgan?" Wilson walked in, Foreman smiled at him as if proud. "House, we've had this discussion."

"Is this an intervention?" House asked. "Cuz this is one of my rare good deeds."

"You're doing this for yourself, House, not for Morgan." Wilson stated clearly. "If you want to do something for HER, talk to her. And me."

"I thought it was a good gesture." House shrugged. It was Foreman's turn to interrupt.

"Can you three get back to work?" And they did.

*i met the governor today! So excited. Review!*


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